


just a little taste, babe

by karasunonolibero



Series: haikyuu song fics [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Drunk Sex, Friends With Benefits, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, all the frat parties oh boy, spot the rarepair let's go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-10-29 17:57:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20800607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunonolibero/pseuds/karasunonolibero
Summary: Kuroo looks far too self-satisfied. “You so have a crush on Suga.”Terushima crosses his arms. “I do not.”“So you’re cool with whatever’s going on over there?” Kuroo nudges him and points to the living room sofa, where Suga is straddling a shirtless Oikawa, knees on either side of his hips with Oikawa’s tongue shoved down his throat.Terushima crushes his half-empty beer can in his fist while Kuroo cackles.~or, Terushima knows that hooking up with your ex’s ex is generally a bad idea. Then again, he’s never claimed to make responsible decisions.





	just a little taste, babe

**Author's Note:**

> heavily heavily inspired by [kill my mind by louis tomlinson](https://youtu.be/jEy6DLvQz-Y) ! idk, i just listened to the song like twice and my hell brain wanted to make it about terusuga. this was supposed to be like 3k but, just like all my other fics, it got out of control very quickly.
> 
> p.s. thank u emma (keysmashlesbian) for beta'ing ur a rockstar
> 
> also, there is smut in the middle but if you want to skip it, it starts at "Suga pulls him into a random room..." and goes back to sfw at "The slam of a door..." the rest of the fic has a lot of talk and implied sexual situations but no graphic smut.
> 
> i think that's all from me, so here we go!
> 
> edit: there is now a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/62yxNLvb7scY1r1VYBP7Aq?si=PiF3VNB3QPilfD960LpAVA) :D

Sugawara Koushi is many things. He’s a reliable setter and pinch server—he’s smart as a whip with a wicked mischievous side—and he’s a god damn nightmare on the dance floor. Terushima can’t take his eyes off of him.

He shouldn’t stare like this, he knows, though he does nothing to avert his gaze from Suga, who’s dirty dancing on a tall blond. He just—he shouldn’t. Suga’s probably definitely off-limits, anyway. So Terushima downs the rest of whatever’s in his cup and drums up the willpower to turn his back and walk away.

The first party of the school year is in full swing. He spots Oikawa and Semi making out on a couch and a few of the Aoba Johsai brothers standing around with drinks in hand. In the living room, the Fukurodani and Nekoma crews have a rowdy game of flip cup set up; Bokuto’s trying desperately to get his cup to land the right way. He shoulders past a clump of Inarizaki brothers to find Bobata, who’s waiting for him in the kitchen with a fresh concoction in a new cup. “You score?”

Right. Terushima had initially left to hit up a girl from his history class. Instead, he’d laid eyes on Sugawara Koushi and momentarily forgotten everyone else existed. He just shrugs. “Nah, couldn’t find her, but whatever!” he says brightly.

Bobata nods and claps him on the shoulder. “Fuck yeah, dude. Plenty of fish in the sea. I struck out with that cute library assistant, but…” He trails off, smile sliding off his face. “Don’t turn around, but the vice president of Karasuno is staring at you. No, I said _don’t_—”

Terushima turns around, and comes face to face with none other than Sugawara Koushi. He pastes on a smile. “Ah, Suga! What a surprise!”

Suga fixes him with an unimpressed stare. “You’re in my frat’s house. It shouldn’t be a surprise to see me here. Also, I saw you staring at me earlier.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Terushima notices Bobata slink away and start chatting with some short guy with spiky two-toned hair. Traitor. Before he can decide whether to make up an excuse or admit the truth, Suga’s talking again, taking a step into his space. “See something you like?”

“Yeah, that guy was pretty hot,” Terushima says nonchalantly.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“But consider. I’m pretty sure it’s not bro code to check out your ex’s exes.”

“Maybe, but consider: we’re not bros. See, you really broke Daichi’s heart in the spring, you know,” Suga says rather matter-of-factly. “And as his friend, I hate your guts for that.”

“Didn’t you break Daichi’s heart back in high school, though?”

Suga doesn’t answer. Another step. The edge of the counter digs into Terushima’s back as a smirk flickers across Suga’s features. “Do you know how extremely obvious you are when you’re jealous? Poor Kamasaki thought you were my boyfriend with the daggers you were glaring at him.”

“Tell Kamasaki I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t be jealous of someone I’m not dating.”

“Oh, he offered a threesome.”

Suga’s pushing his buttons, if the smug little twist of his thin lips is anything to go by, and Terushima fucking _hates_ that. Pushing buttons and making innuendos is _his_ game, and he’ll be damned if he’s outdone. But now that _that_ image is in his head, he has to force it away before he does something like blush or pop a boner. “As hot as that sounds, I prefer giving all my attention to one person.”

Suga laughs at that. “You know, sometimes I wondered what Daichi saw in you. You don’t really seem like his type. But he’s the kind of person who sees the good in everyone.”

“It’s funny you say that, because when I watched you grind up on Kamasaki, I think I got a pretty good idea of what Daichi saw in _you_.”

It’s a little low and they both know it. Suga’s jaw clenches. “You’re not making a great case for yourself.”

In response, Terushima just sticks out his tongue, letting Suga get a good look at the silver metal stud. “There’s one reason.”

“Tongue piercings are overrated,” Suga scoffs.

“At first Daichi wasn’t too sure about it either, but hey. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“You want me to want it to be.”

“Says who?”

Suga smirks. “Let’s go back to what started this, which was you staring at me dancing with Kamasaki. Admit it, Teru. Someone has a crush.”

“It’s a dance floor in the middle of the house. It’d be hard not to look.”

“You’re cute when you play dumb, but you’re not fooling anyone. I know you’re in advanced classes.”

Terushima stares at him, tension crackling between them, along with the uncertainty of where this is going. Is he being hit on, in a roundabout way? Or is Suga just trying to fluster him, toy with him in a game of cat and mouse?

“Suga!” someone calls suddenly; Suga steps back, and just like that, Terushima is surrounded by the fluorescent kitchen lights and the noise of the party. Suga’s already walking away, and either Terushima’s frustrated mind is deceiving him or Suga is actually swaying his hips as he leaves.

Terushima groans and refills his cup. He’s going to enjoy this party, Sugawara Koushi be damned.

~

Terushima doesn’t expect to see Suga again until the next party, but he walks into the library on Tuesday afternoon, books shoved under his arm and headphones falling off his ears, heading for his favorite table in the far corner, only to see it’s already occupied by none other than—

“Suga?” He blinks, not sure if he’s more surprised by the fact that his usually empty table is no longer empty, or by the fact that it’s occupied by Suga, of all people. He recovers quickly, though, and lets a smirk take over. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were following me.”

Suga looks up from where he’s spread his books all over the table like he owns it, expression far too unbothered. “Following you? Please. I have better things to do than follow _you_ around.”

“Like take up way too much space with your shit?”

Suga shrugs and moves one textbook an inch closer to himself. “I’m working.”

“I’ve never seen you in here before.”

“Ennoshita is having very loud sex in the room next to mine and I couldn’t focus. At three in the afternoon, at that. Can you believe that?”

“What, jealous that you weren’t getting some, too?”

“I’m never jealous of the people he brings back.” Terushima glances around to see if there are any other open tables. The mature, normal thing to do would be to just set his stuff down, push Suga’s notes aside, and focus on his homework. But that would mean they’re far too close, and Terushima doubts he could get any work done with Suga just a foot away. Because of the bickering that’s sure to ensue, of course. No other reason, like getting distracted by the easy way Suga twirls his pen around his hand, or the annoyed little huff he makes when a strand of hair falls over his face. “Good luck,” Terushima says curtly before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and moving to a different table.

And for the rest of the afternoon, he keeps his head buried in biology notes, pretending not to look at Suga and pretending he doesn’t notice Suga looking at him.

~

When the weekend rolls around, Kuroo swings by the Johzenji house to invite them to a party Saturday night. “The theme is After Sex,” Kuroo informs them with a wink.

“What the hell does that mean?” Numajiri wants to know.

“It means you show up looking like you just had sex,” Bobata explains. “So like, button your shirt up a little wrong, get your clothes rumpled, sex hair, you know.”

“Lipstick on your neck,” Futamata adds, which gets a whoop of laughter from the other brothers.

“Or you could always go the extra mile and actually have sex right before,” Kuroo teases. “Just a suggestion.”

“Hey, is Karasuno coming?” Terushima asks.

Kuroo’s face turns guarded all of a sudden. “Yeah. They come to every Nekoma party.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Terushima says, a little too breezily. “I was just wondering if—you know—”

“Oh, I know.” Kuroo leaves the flyer in his hands and waltzes away. Once the door shuts behind him, the Johzenji brothers erupt in a flurry of chatter.

“Hey, anyone have lipstick?” Iizaka’s asking.

“Bobata can check under his bed,” Futamata says.

“You really think Bobata’s the best one to ask?” Tsucchi says.

“What are you trying to say, huh?” Bobata smacks them both upside the head.

Meanwhile, Terushima’s mind is stuck on the fact that Sugawara Koushi is coming to an after sex party. Which means Terushima is going to see what he looks like after sex. Without even having sex with him. It takes several deep breaths and reciting seventy-eight digits of pi in his head before he feels composed enough to join in the excitement.

~

Terushima shows up at the Nekoma house in a pair of tight black boxer-briefs, an old red t-shirt with a stretched-out neckline that dips low enough to show off his collarbones, and hair mussed to bedhead perfection. He’s pretty damn proud of his look, and the unsubtle stares he gets as he walks in only serve to inflate his ego.

“Hey, there they are!” Kuroo runs up to him. His hair is even worse than usual, and he’s got a bedsheet precariously draped over his shoulder.

“What can I say, the party don’t start till we walk in!” Terushima grins as the Johzenji boys hoot and holler behind him. “So where’s the booze?”

The brothers split off, some heading for the living room, some finding friends, some zeroing in on potential partners for the night. Terushima follows Kuroo into the kitchen and cracks open a can of beer.

“So.” Kuroo grins at him. “I gotta admit, I’m kind of surprised you didn’t deck Kamasaki after last week.”

“Last week?” Terushima takes a swig of beer. “What happened last week?”

Kuroo’s smile fades into a look of confusion. “Over dancing with your boyfriend. I thought he just didn’t know you guys were dating.”

Terushima blinks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Did you not see him dancing with Suga?”

The implication hits him so suddenly he coughs on a sip of beer. “Oh! No! It’s not like that, I swear,” Terushima insists, shaking his head.

Kuroo doesn’t look entirely convinced. “You seemed pretty…possessive when you saw them dancing last weekend.”

“I—what? Nah, it wasn’t that, I swear.”

Kuroo seems to think that over, then nods. “Damn. I kinda would have paid to see that fight. Are you guys, like, fuck buddies?”

“No.” _Unfortunately_, his brain decides to add.

“Ah.” Kuroo’s annoying smirk is back, the one that makes him seem like he knows more than you want him to. “So you have a crush.”

“Where the hell did you get that from?”

“Am I interrupting something?” Suga’s voice sneaks up on him, sounding far too innocent. Terushima turns around to look at him and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

Suga’s in a long dress shirt that’s clearly too big for him, unbuttoned to his sternum and barely long enough to hit the tops of his thighs. His legs look enticingly long, the skin smooth and pale and _god_, Terushima wants to suck bites into those thighs and listen to Suga whine under him.

“Not at all! Glad you could make it,” Kuroo chirps, ever the jovial host. Suga’s eyes meet Terushima’s, dark and unreadable; Terushima’s never felt so much like a bug on a microscope slide.

“Couldn’t miss it! Not with a theme like this.” Suga slaps Kuroo on the arm and grabs himself a beer before disappearing back into the half-dressed throng of partygoers. Terushima lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Kuroo looks far too self-satisfied at the interaction. “You so have a crush on Suga.”

Terushima crosses his arms. “I do not.”

“So you’re cool with whatever’s going on over there?” Kuroo points to the living room sofa where Suga is straddling a shirtless Oikawa, knees on either side of his hips with Oikawa’s tongue shoved down his throat. How the hell does he work that fast?

Terushima crushes his half-empty beer can in his fist while Kuroo cackles.

~

The next party, courtesy of Aoba Johsai, is a paint party. Oikawa shows up at the Johzenji door with an armful of white t-shirts and underwear and a grin, telling them to “wear these and we’ll take care of the paint!” So Terushima shows up in the provided ensemble, excited to see what artwork he’ll sport by the time he wakes up in the morning. The entire lower floor of the Aoba Johsai house has been turned into a painting zone—cans of paint and brushes are lined up against every wall and drop cloths cover the furniture, already stained every color of the rainbow, the result of adventurous students before them.

He’s just dipped his hand into a can of purple paint and is sneaking up on Kuroo when a hand smacks him squarely on the ass.

It’s Suga, because of course it is. “Marking your territory?” Terushima snarks, twisting around to see the orange handprint on his ass.

“You wish.” Suga just grins at him, crooking his finger, and oh, it’s _on_. Terushima lunges at him with a colorful hand, but Suga’s too quick, dancing out of the way and laughing all the while. “Gotta be faster than that.”

“What happened to Oikawa? Got bored of him?” Terushima flicks some paint in Suga’s direction, but only succeeds in getting a few dots on Suga’s shin.

“He’s quite the gentleman.” Suga deflects the question, jabbing out and landing another hit on Terushima’s ribs.

“And you don’t want a gentleman?”

“Oikawa’s hung up on Semi from Shiratorizawa, anyway.”

“You’re looking for the excitement of a bad boy. I get it.” Terushima jumps over the covered couch to escape a hit.

“If you find one, give him my number.”

“I’m right here.”

“A couple of piercings and an undercut do not a bad boy make.” Suga hums, smirking as he snatches a paintbrush and swipes a long stripe up Terushima’s thigh.

“You dated Daichi. You’re no expert on bad boys.”

“So did you,” Suga teases him.

“I got him to fall for my piercing, is what I did.” Terushima sticks his tongue out, the silver metal ball catching on his front teeth with a soft click. “That invitation’s still open, by the way.”

“Oh, so it _is_ an invitation.”

“You’re the one who wanted it to be.”

“We’re not having this conversation again.” Suga steps into his space suddenly and yanks him close, smearing red paint all over the front of his previously pristine white shirt. “I thought you were more straightforward than this.”

Terushima glances down at his shirt and laughs. “It looks like you stabbed me.”

“Your terrible lines make me wish I could.”

“Then who would you have left to chase after with paint?” Terushima’s hand is still dripping with color, and their proximity gives him a wicked idea. He’s been playing defense for too long—it’s time to start teasing back. Suga’s not getting the upper hand here. “You want straightforward, Sugawara?” He smirks, eyes stuck on Suga’s face as he reaches forward and slowly, deliberately, presses his hand to the front of Suga’s boxers, fingers curling around the bulge he finds there.

Suga’s eyes go wide for a fraction of a second. “Definitely an invitation,” is all he says before he’s leaning in and leaving a deceptively gentle handprint on Terushima’s cheek, and then he’s gone.

Terushima can only blink as he watches Sugawara disappear into the party, off in pursuit of one of the Miya twins from Inarizaki. Fuck, he needs a drink. He wanders into the kitchen, slapping a few Dateko brothers with paint on the way, and finds Kindaichi sitting on the counter, swinging his feet and banging his heels into the cabinets.

“Hey, Shallot-Head!” He ruffles Kindaichi’s hair with a paint-covered hand. “Where are the drinks?”

“I’m going to kill Oikawa for that nickname,” Kindaichi sighs. “In the cooler.”

“Nah, the harder stuff.”

Oikawa’s laugh cuts through the low buzz of noise in the kitchen, and seconds later, he’s standing right in front of Terushima, two cans of beer in each hand. “Who slapped you?” he asks, clearly not caring how nosy he sounds.

“Not a slap. More like…a promise.” Terushima does his best to keep his grin cryptic as Oikawa shakes his head and laughs.

~

The night of Shiratorizawa’s “Anything For A Buck” party, Terushima is practically vibrating with excitement. He’s in such a good mood, in fact, that he tunes out Bobata’s teasing and the fact that Kuroo must have told Bobata about what’s definitely not a crush.

“This is kind of weird,” Iizaka mutters as Shirabu hands him a wad of Monopoly money. “This feels like prostitution.”

“It’s not prostitution,” Shirabu informs them, counting out fifty singles for Terushima. “It’s fake money, and besides, you can use it for anything. Use it to dare someone to eat grass or something.”

“Remember, whoever has the most money at the end of the night gets a prize!” Tendou chirps, slapping Bobata and Terushima on the shoulder at the same time. “So let’s get this bread!”

“I thought people stopped saying that,” Futamata says, counting his stack. “You’re short a dollar, Shirabitch. You trying to cheat me?”

“I’m a math major and you’re telling me I can’t count? Square the fuck up.”

Terushima leaves them to squabble and meanders through the house. The transactions are already in full swing, it seems, if Kuroo handing Bokuto some money and Bokuto immediately trying to do a backflip over the couch is any indication. The sexier stuff will probably come later, after everyone’s gotten some alcohol in their system.

But before he can find alcohol to put in his system, he’s accosted by Tanaka and Nishinoya from Karasuno.

“Teru!” Noya yells directly in his face. His breath reeks of beer. “We’ll give you twenty bucks if you help us out.”

“Help you what?”

Tanaka motions to Oikawa, who’s moping in a corner next to a potted plant. “We’re trying to hook him up with Suga.”

Terushima turns his bark of surprise into a cough. “What? Why?”

“Cause he’s moping and Suga’s whining about how he hasn’t gotten dick in weeks and they’re obviously into each other but they’re being _pussies_,” Tanaka says. Noya nods in agreement.

“And...why me?”

“Cause Kuroo won’t help us and neither will Daichi and you’re the next best person!”

Terushima doesn’t want to know how they reached that conclusion. “I need a drink,” he mutters, scooting past them and tuning out their sighs.

No, it’s _not_ because he’d be jealous. That’s ridiculous. He just...he just doesn’t want to, that’s all. He grabs a cup, a can of Red Bull, and a bottle of vodka, and goes to work.

“Two bucks to make me one?” Suga’s voice lilts over the noise of the party.

God damnit. Terushima takes a deep breath. “Pay up, then,” he says, injecting his voice with false cheer.

Suga slides two white slips of paper across the counter. “I saw Noya and Tanaka got to you. They’re really desperate to set me up with Oikawa, huh?”

Terushima almost drops the can of Red Bull. “You know about that?”

“They’re loud when they’re sober and even louder than they’re drunk,” Suga says simply. “You’d have to pay Oikawa to get with me, though.”

“Yeah, last week you said something about him and Semi?”

Suga waves his hand dismissively. “Some shit about them sleeping together and Oikawa thinking it was more, but then Semi slept with, like, half of Nekoma and now Oikawa’s sad about it and won’t even look at other guys.”

“Half of Nekoma? All at the same time?”

“You’re terrible.”

“You know what’s really terrible? I hear you haven’t gotten laid in a while.”

“Jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous of _not_ getting laid?” Terushima slides the concoction over to Suga. “Who do you think I am?”

“No, I think you’re jealous that you haven’t been fucking me,” Suga says, taking a long sip of his drink.

“Keep thinking.”

“And you keep dreaming.”

“Of?”

“Me.”

“I never think of you.”

“That’s not what Kuroo says.”

“That traitor,” Terushima mutters under his breath.

“Hey, Suga!” shouts Futakuchi Kenji from Dateko. “Ten bucks for a lap dance?”

“Twenty,” Suga shoots back.

“Fifteen.”

“Deal.” Suga glances back at Terushima and has the audacity to wink at him before sauntering over to Futakuchi, who’s already relaxing in a folding chair with a sleazy grin. Terushima resists the urge to make a face at him.

The hours pass, and Terushima’s memories get increasingly blurrier. Money keeps changing hands, and he has no real idea of how much he has; all he knows is that he pays Shirabu from Shiratorizawa to down two Red Bulls in a row, and gets ten dollars from Bokuto to get on the table and dance to Partition, and at some point he’s making out with Daishou from Nohebi, though he’s not sure if that was for money or for fun.

At one point, Kuroo lies down on the kitchen island and lets Semi do a body shot—much to Oikawa’s annoyance—which opens the floodgate for everyone else to start doing body shots. Even Daichi gets adventurous and lets Ushijima lick the salt off of his very-defined abs. The crowd gets bigger and the cheers get louder; Tendou takes it upon himself to assume the role of emcee and start calling out people who haven’t done it yet.

After Yahaba bites the lime from the mouth of a red-faced and visibly tense Shirabu, Tendou’s wheezing with laughter. “Sexy,” he cackles. “Ten bucks to hatefuck each other?”

“Fuck off,” Yahaba bites back, immediately leaving the kitchen to stand next to a tall, muscular brunet from Aoba Johsai.

“Who’s next?” Tendou surveys the crowd like a lion choosing a gazelle to eat, and eyes land on Terushima. “Undercut! I’ll give you my last ten to do one off Mr. Refreshing over there!”

Mr. Refreshing? Terushima follows Tendou’s pointing finger to…Suga? “What?” is all the protest he can voice before Bobata is snickering and shoving him toward the island.

“Get up there, stud! This is your chance!” Bobata shouts in his ear.

Suga, to his credit, acts completely unfazed, even as he drops his shirt to the floor and crawls up on the island while Noya yells behind him. His eyes bore right into Terushima the whole time.

“Wait! I have an idea. Let’s make this interesting.” Kuroo grins, and Terushima decides he really doesn’t like the glint of Kuroo’s teeth when he _has an idea_. “I’ll pour it down his abs and you drink out of his belly button.”

What? No one else did this! Terushima looks at Suga, who shoots back a cool, “I’m down.”

So. He’s going to lick tequila off of Suga’s abs and then lick salt off of wherever Kuroo and Tendou feel like making him. And wherever Suga agrees to.

Suga fixes him with a stare that’s far too calm for what’s about to happen. “Do your worst, Teru,” he says, reaching down and dragging his fingertip up his abs.

God, if Terushima pops a boner, he’ll never hear the end of it. The kitchen feels very hot all of a sudden.

“Terushima.” Kuroo elbows him in the ribs. “You gotta do the salt.”

“Right, right. Where?” He blinks.

“Right here.” Suga tilts his chin up, exposing the column of his throat and touching the hollow where his neck meets his chest.

“You could do a shot out of there too, you know,” Kuroo observes.

“Don’t give him any more ideas!” Terushima protests.

“Are you saying you _wouldn’t_ drink tequila out of there?” Suga challenges.

“You people talk way too much,” Tendou cuts in. “Tonight, guys, let’s go! We’re not getting any younger!”

Terushima hovers over Suga, suddenly extremely aware of how close they are. He can feel Suga’s breath on his skin, can smell the sharp combination of alcohol and cologne and sweat on him. “Well,” Suga says with a smirk, “I guess I’ll get to see how that tongue stud feels after all.”

Fuck. Terushima sticks his tongue out and licks a stripe up Suga’s neck for Kuroo to swoop in and sprinkle the salt over the spot. Tendou brandishes the lime, which Terushima purposely does not look at Suga opening his mouth to accept. Not at all.

“Ready, men?” Tendou calls, and someone from Fukurodani whistles. “Go!”

It’s happening, and it feels like a drunken sequence in a movie scene. The clear liquid pours out of the bottle, cascading down sculpted abs and pooling in the cavity of Suga’s navel; Terushima leans forward, sucking it out and feeling Suga squirm underneath him. Wincing at the sting, he stumbles the few steps forward to lick up the salt.

“The lime, bro! Bite the lime!” Kuroo’s yelling at him, so Terushima does. His teeth sink into the lime, lips brushing Suga’s as he sucks the juice from the sour fruit and winces even more.

When he pulls back, he dimly registers the din of everyone shouting behind him. Suga turns his head to the side, spits out the lime rind, and looks back at him. “Not so hard, was it?”

Terushima kisses him. It’s sloppy and tinged with the bitter tastes still lingering on his tongue and at a bit of an awkward angle, but all he can really focus on is that _Suga is kissing him right back. _Suga’s hand curls around the back of his neck, mouth pressing back insistently as their tongues slide together in a dirty dance.

“Okay, okay, break it up, lovebirds!” Tendou’s voice shatters the spell, and when Terushima straightens up, he sees more than a few jaws dropped at the display. “Get a room and let the next people have a turn, would you?” 

“Now that,” Suga says pleasantly, sitting up so fast he almost headbutts Terushima in the face, “is the best idea you’ve had all night. Let’s go.”

More baffled than anything, Terushima lets Suga tug him up the stairs, aware of the pairs of eyes on them. He makes the mistake of looking back and meets eyes with Daichi, who looks like a five-year-old who’s just seen a mall Santa take off his costume. He ducks his head and drags his feet to keep up.

Suga pulls him into a random room and immediately kisses him again. There’s only an inch of difference between them but Suga stands up on his toes anyway so he’s that tiny bit taller, hands fisting at Terushima’s collar to keep him close.

“Fuck, Suga,” Terushima mutters, wrapping his arms around Suga’s slim waist and letting a hand wander down to grope at his ass. “Didn’t think a body shot was all it took for you to hook up with someone.”

Suga bites his lower lip in retaliation. “Who exactly do you think I am?” he asks.

“You gave Futakuchi a lap dance for fifteen fake dollars.”

“All in good fun.” Suga leans in, pressing wet kisses up the side of Terushima’s neck. “Slut-shaming isn’t cute, you know.”

“I’m not slut-shaming. I’m just curious.”

“I don’t do this a lot, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So I’m special?”

“You’re here.”

“And you’re talking too much.” Terushima tips Suga’s chin up to smother his mouth, parting his lips and letting Suga lick his way inside his mouth. They stumble back until Terushima’s knees hit the edge of the bed and Suga pulls away with a wet smack of lips.

“You know this doesn’t mean a fucking thing,” Suga hisses out against Terushima’s cheek.

“Sure it doesn’t,” is all Terushima has the patience to reply with before he’s leaning in for another kiss. The next thing he knows, there are hands on his chest and a surprising amount of force pushing him away. “Wait, do you not wanna fuck anymore?”

“This doesn’t mean a fucking thing,” Suga repeats, his eyes startlingly clear all of a sudden. “We shouldn’t be doing this. We’re not telling anyone or doing this again. Got it?”

Terushima’s throat is dry as he nods. “Got it.”

“Good. Now hurry up and fuck me.”

“You look so pure and innocent, but you’re really just a bossy little—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“Or what, you’ll punish me?” Terushima’s teasing smirk only lasts for a second before Suga’s pinching his nipple in retaliation.

“I said hurry up.” Suga pushes him again, and Terushima falls back on the bed while Suga climbs over him. Strong fingers pin his wrists to the mattress, touch hot and searing against his skin.

“I can’t hurry up and do much of anything if you’re holding me down, you know.”

“You don’t need your hands to fuck me.” And with that, Suga grinds down, slotting a leg between Terushima’s and lining their hips up. Terushima groans at the friction, the front of his jeans suddenly feeling way too tight.

“Shit, Suga, let me touch you.” He’s not ashamed of the whine in his voice.

“I kind of like you under me like this.” But Suga lets him go after a moment’s consideration, and Terushima takes advantage of the newfound freedom to pop the button of Suga’s jeans. They undress in a flurry, clothes landing in a heap on the floor next to the bed, until they’re both naked. Terushima can’t help but dive into the juncture between Suga’s shoulder and his neck, biting and sucking at the skin, until Suga gets a hand in his hair and yanks him away. Suga pushes him down again, producing a packet of lube from god knows where.

“Let me—please?” Terushima’s hands settle at his hips. The half-open packet hits him in the face, and he supposes that’s as much of a yes as he’s going to get. He sits up, Suga still on his knees over his lap as he slicks up his fingers. “So. Is it true you haven’t gotten fucked in few weeks?” he teases, circling the pad of his finger over Suga’s entrance. “Bet you’ll be pretty tight.”

“Oh, shut up.” Suga’s cheeks are red, but his fingers are digging into Terushima’s shoulders, holding on for dear life.

“Actually I kind of wanted to make you scream.” With a grin, Terushima slips a finger into him, heart skipping a beat at the surprised little noise Suga lets out. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

“Then make me feel good already.”

That’s all the encouragement Terushima needs. He flips them over and rolls Suga onto his stomach, pinning him down between his shoulder blades, kneeling between spread thighs so he can’t close his legs.

“Teru, I swear to god—” Suga cuts himself off, wriggling around to try to get away. Terushima just slides his hand up to grip the back of Suga’s neck and presses down harder, taking a moment just to appreciate the sight before him. Suga just looks so damn pretty like this, planes of pale skin on display shimmering with hints of sweat, muscles built up from years of daily workouts rippling as he squirms. And so many beauty marks, little dots sprinkled all over him like they rained down on him. If Terushima had the time and the patience, he’d be trailing his lips over every inch of that skin.

But as it is, it takes almost all of his strength to keep Suga pinned to the bed while he works his finger inside again. Suga groans at that, clenching around him, but after a few seconds, he finally starts to relax.

“Would you look at that. Do you always calm down when someone’s sticking something in your ass?” Terushima taunts.

“I liked you better when you were begging me to let you touch me.”

“So you do like me.”

“Not now, I don’t.” Suga’s voice is starting to lose its bite, so Terushima takes the opportunity to slip a second finger in, biting back a huff as he feels Suga clench around him. “_Oh_.”

“What about…now?” Terushima curls his fingers, smirking at the satisfied hum that draws from Suga. “Still don’t like me?”

“I never said that,” Suga huffs out, voice teetering on the edge of breathy as he turns his head to the side to peer back at Terushima. “Are you going to tease me all damn night?”

“It’s a tempting thought,” Terushima says, lazily thrusting in and biting back a whine at how Suga feels clenched around his fingers. “But I want to get off tonight, too.”

Suga snorts. “I bet you’re one of those guys who gets himself off and doesn’t give a shit about his partner.”

“I can’t believe you think so highly of me.” Terushima withdraws his fingers, chuckling when Suga cants his hips back to chase the feeling. “Feel free to beg if you want.”

“Absolutely not.” Even with only one eye visible, Suga’s glare holds the venom of a whole nest of snakes. “I’m not asking, I’m _telling_ you to hurry up and fuck me.”

“Just a minute.” Terushima realizes, too late, that he’s out of lube and doesn’t have a condom. “Fuck.”

Suga huffs, impatient, and leans over to start rummaging through the drawer of the nightstand. “There must be stuff in here. Catch.” That’s all the warning Terushima gets before a condom packet hits him in the face. The lube bottle, fortunately clunks to the floor; he scoops it up and crawls back onto the bed, where Suga’s now sitting back against the headboard, knees spread invitingly. “Do you always take this long?”

“You,” Terushima says, grabbing Suga’s hips and tilting them up, “talk too much.”

“Then shut me up,” Suga snarks back, and oh, the mental image of Suga swallowing his cock is almost too much at this point. They’ll have to do that next time. If there is a next time. Terushima doesn’t waste any more time, lining himself up and pushing in to the hilt in one thrust.

“Fuck,” Suga pants out, nails digging into his back. “You’re—bigger than I thought.”

“Maybe you should stop thinking things about me,” Terushima murmurs against his neck, biting down as he starts to thrust. He won’t last long, not with how hard he’s been since Tendou’s _brilliant_ body shot idea, but he’ll be damned if he comes first and proves Suga right. He winds a hand through Suga’s hair and drags him up for another kiss, messy and wet and barely more than moans into each other’s mouths.

“_Yes_,” Suga hisses out, slumping back against the pillows. “_Fuck_ yes, right there.”

He looks like a paradox, sinful and sweet, lips parting around a moan as he arches his back, and _god_, he looks so good like this. Still intoxicatingly pretty, even when he’s getting fucked. “Getting close?” Terushima’s voice is tight as he feels the heat start to build in his core.

Suga locks his hands around Terushima’s neck, keeping him close. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t stop.”

Terushima fucks him faster, harder, filling the room with the sound of their moans and skin slapping against skin. “Come on, let me see what you look like when you come,” he whispers, shifting his weight to jerk Suga off in time with his thrusts.

“Fu—” Suga cuts himself off as he shudders, spilling over Terushima’s fist.

“Jesus,” Terushima gasps out as he fills the condom. The sight and sound of Suga hitting his peak is going to haunt his wet dreams, he knows. But, he thinks as he tosses the condom away and collapses on the mattress next to Suga, sweaty and satisfied, there are much worse sights and sounds to be haunted by.

~

The slam of a door jolts Terushima out of a dead sleep. Groaning, he rolls over and immediately regrets it. His head feels heavy, his mouth dry and throat scratchy. “Fuck,” he moans into the pillow, breathing in and registering that his is not his bed. Damn.

The events of the previous night are hazy, but he thinks he can pull enough of them together to remember what happened. There was pastel Monopoly money…a body shot…and…Suga, screaming his name…

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters again, louder this time. Someone pounds on the door.

“Semi! Does your boyfriend want breakfast?”

“Huh?” Terushima picks his head up as the door opens to reveal a startlingly jaunty Tendou.

“Ah…Terushima?” Tendou cocks his head to the side. “Why are you in Semi’s room?”

“This is Semi’s room?” Terushima just blinks. “Oops?”

“So when where did Semi take Oikawa…?” Tendou wonders aloud as he moseys out the door, leaving Terushima to wonder if Semi and Oikawa finally got their shit together. He yawns, rolling over and realizing the other side of the bed is cold. Suga must have left a while ago. With a herculean effort, he drags himself out of bed, tugging his clothes on haphazardly and wandering downstairs.

Downstairs, the Shiratorizawa brothers have begun to clean up the dregs of last night’s party. Empty beer cans litter the floor, the trash bins are overflowing, cigarette butts are strewn across the kitchen island, and Monopoly money is scattered on every surface like confetti on the sidewalks of Times Square on the morning of January first. But there’s no sign of Suga.

Shirabu is cleaning the counter in bright yellow gloves and still has the audacity to laugh at Terushima as he traipses through the carnage. “Walk of shame?” he snarks.

Terushima sticks his tongue out. “Jealousy isn’t cute, Shirabitch.”

“I’m going to kill whoever started that.”

“You have the gloves for it.”

“You’re no longer welcome in this house.”

“Ah, but on the contrary!” Tendou reappears and slings an arm over Terushima’s shoulders. “This one knows how to liven up a party.”

Terushima yawns again and scrubs his hands over his face. “Don’t remind me. Did you see Suga leave?”

Three of the Shiratorizawa brothers shake their heads. “He must have left before anybody else woke up,” Ushijima concludes.

Right. Why would he stick around? If Terushima were in his shoes, waking up in a strange room with an ex’s ex, he’d probably want to remove himself from the situation as soon as possible, too. “Did anyone win?”

“Fuck knows!” Tendou laughs. “I don’t think anyone really cared or remembered.”

“What was the prize going to be, anyway?”

“Winner’s choice.”

“That’s code for ‘we didn’t pick a prize,’” Shirabu calls.

Terushima leaves them to bicker and makes sure his phone and wallet are in his pocket before leaving. The campus is quiet, even for a Sunday morning; they’re still a few hours away from the first signs of life. The Johzenji house is similarly quiet when he lets himself in, and he hopes that he might be able to sneak back into his room without alerting any of his brothers to his presence.

“Morning, lover boy,” Bobata sings from somewhere in the living room. Terushima almost jumps at the sound of his voice.

“The fuck are you doing up before noon?” he demands, planting his hands on his hips as he glares at his frat brother.

Bobata’s wearing his stupid pajama pants and an even stupider grin. “Well? You and Suga finally bang or what?”

Terushima squints and flops on the other end of the couch. “If you and Futamata have a bet going, I swear I’m gonna cover your entire floor in Ping Pong balls.”

“Excuse me, the entire house has a bet going, so come on. Out with it.”

“Why the fuck do all of you bet on my sex life?”

“Shut up, hypocrite. You’re the one who started a betting pool for Jiri and Noya from Karasuno.” Bobata snickers. “Unless you got rejected.”

“I’m going back to bed.”

“I’m gonna take that as a no!” Bobata yells. Terushima ignores him and collapses into his own bed, shoving his face in the pillow and refusing to think about the events of last night.

When he wakes up again sometime in the early afternoon, the rest of the boys are waiting in the kitchen for his answer. “Well?” Iizaka prompts him. “I have twenty dollars and this week’s chores riding on this.”

“This is an ambush.” Terushima moves toward the fridge, only for Futamata to step in his path.

“Come on. Yes or no?”

Terushima sighs. “Yes.”

Everyone except Jiri and Iizaka bursts into cheers. “Damnit, Teru, you and your dick lost me, like, eighty bucks!” Jiri whines.

“Hey, be happy for him!” Futamata slaps Terushima on the shoulder. “He’s got a boyfriend now! No more whining about not getting laid!”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Terushima shoves Futamata’s hand off his shoulder. “Who said he was my boyfriend?”

Silence. A few people just blink owlishly. Then Higashi speaks up. “Some of us may or may not have bet on you guys dating.”

“I thought this was just about if we had sex!”

“For some of us, yeah!” Jiri says. “So hang on, if they banged but aren’t boyfriends, then…”

The Johzenji brothers start mumbling among themselves, exchanging twenty-dollar bills while Terushima turns to Bobata with a sigh. “We’re not dating.”

“I know. But it’s an idea, right?”

“A stupid one. He’s hot and the sex was good. I don’t want to date him.” And yet, the unbidden jealousy that arose at the sight of Suga dancing with Kamasaki was even harder to ignore.

~

Terushima likes to think he’s done a brilliant job of avoiding Suga. He hasn’t seen Suga invade his library space again, knows he won’t see him in between classes since their departments are in different buildings, and didn’t even notice him at Nohebi’s ‘slumber party’-themed rager the next Saturday night.

So, two weeks after what Terushima has privately been referring to as ‘the body shot incident,’ he heads over to Dateko’s glow party without a care in the world, ribbing Bobata and teasing Jiri about finally getting with Nishinoya.

Moniwa opens the door with a wide grin. “Come on in! You can put your coats over on the couch! Grab a glow stick and have fun!”

Terushima shrugs his leather jacket off and reaches for a yellow glow stick, only to bump hands with someone.

“You know, I almost thought you were avoiding me.” Suga’s voice is teasing, cool, as though nothing ever happened between them. Like they’re still dancing around each other with half-serious taunts and innuendos.

“Can’t avoid someone if I wasn’t looking for them to begin with.”

“I know you purposely weren’t looking at me at the Nohebi party last weekend.”

“Honestly, I didn’t even see you there,” Terushima tells him. “So you can’t hold that against me.”

“You didn’t notice a cute boy in lingerie?” Suga clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “You’re not the Terushima Yuuji I thought I knew.”

Terushima _doesn’t_ choke on his own spit at the mental image of Suga in lacy lingerie, thank you very much. “You wear lingerie to slumber parties?” is what he asks instead. “Must have made training camps fun.”

“I’d never taint the children’s minds like that. Who do you think I am, some sort of filthy pervert?”

If Terushima didn’t know better, Suga’s face would be totally convincing, brown eyes wide and innocent-looking. But he absolutely does know better from personal experience, so he leans in close, placing a hand on the wall behind Suga’s head, crowding into his space. “Actually, I happen to _know_ just how filthy you are. You love playing the innocent card, smiling all sweet, but you’re really just a little slut, huh?”

Suga tenses where he’s backed against the wall and looks away, and for a second Terushima worries he’s gone too far, that Suga will just sock him in the jaw with one of his legendary punches and avoid him for the rest of their time at college. But then their eyes meet again, Suga’s significantly darker now. “Are you asking for a reminder?”

“Are you offering?”

“Stop dancing around and answer the question.” Suga’s hand comes up to curl around the back of Terushima’s neck, drawing him in so Suga can speak directly into his ear, hot breath fanning over his skin and making him shiver. “You want to fuck me again, don’t you? Want to hold me down and mark me up and make me scream your name so loud the whole house can hear us?”

“Fuck,” Terushima mutters, grabbing the front of Suga’s shirt and dragging him up for a rough kiss. Suga responds immediately, mouth curving into something like a smirk as he slips his fingers through the belt loops of Terushima’s jeans to press their hips together. There’s the dim thought in the way back of Terushima’s mind that people—like Daichi—could see them, and could tell other people—like Daichi—but he can’t really bring himself to give a shit right now, not with the heated press of their mouths and the impatient noises Suga is making begging for his attention.

Suga breaks the kiss first, eyes hooded and lower lip caught between shiny teeth. “Whose room do you want to defile this time?”

~

Terushima wakes up to the sound of a violent bang and the sight of a very pissed-off and hungover Futakuchi barging into the room.

“Really, Terushima? In my bed? Get fucked,” he grouses.

“Oops?” is all Terushima’s just-woken-up brain can think to say.

“Is this because Suga gave me that lap dance at the Shiratorizawa party? Sorry if you guys are a thing, but like…this is pretty fucking low, man.”

“I—what? No, what the fuck? Why does everyone think we’re fucking dating?” Terushima pulls the covers up over his head.

Futakuchi snorts and yanks the blankets back, glaring down at Terushima as the latter whines and squeezes his eyes shut. “Maybe because whenever someone does anything with him, you have a fucking heart attack and practically whip out your dick to piss on him.”

“I’m not into that. Suga, tell him.” Terushima rolls over to find the other side of the bed empty. But this time it’s warm—he hasn’t been gone too long.

“I just saw him leave,” Futakuchi informs him. “Didn’t look happy. Are you that bad of a lay?”

It’s still far too much to process this early in the morning. “Get fucked.”

“Looks like you did.” Futakuchi snatches the pillow next. “Now get out of my bed. I’ll bring my sheets to the Johzenji house for you to wash later.” Terushima groans, and for that he gets a kick in the shins. “I said get _out_!”

~

It takes all of two hours for word of him and Suga hooking up again to make its rounds through the gossip mill. By mid-afternoon, there’s a post on the college gossip page that reads: “i heard suga and teru hooked up again at the glow party, wonder what daichi has to say about that”.

Below that is a comment from Daishou that says, “If both of my exes hooked up with each other I don’t know if I’d want to punch them or ask to watch next time.”

“Perv,” Terushima mutters to himself as he unfollows the page. “This page is stupid anyway.”

Later, he also finds out that Jiri and Noya did finally, in fact, hook up, and gets forty dollars out of it, but even that smugness is short-lived.

~

Later in the week he hears from Futamata, who heard from Jiri who heard from Noya, that Suga and Daichi are apparently avoiding each other.

“Which has to be pretty obvious and like, really awkward. I mean, they’re the president and vice president,” Futamata shares over cheap instant ramen on Wednesday evening.

Terushima pauses. “Is it because we hooked up?”

“Probably.” Futamata shrugs. “But you shouldn’t feel bad about it. I mean, obviously Suga’s over it, so there are probably just some leftover feelings on Daichi’s part, I guess.”

Terushima thinks that’s an awfully long time to still not be over an ex, considering the two of them dated back in high school, but he keeps that to himself. “I didn’t mean to make shit weird.”

“Well, it’s too late now, anyway,” Futamata says. “I mean, if you like him you should go for it, you know?”

Terushima inhales a spoonful of broth so quickly it burns the roof of his mouth and he coughs it out. Futamata looks vaguely annoyed. “Gross, bro. Learn to eat.”

“Who said anything about _liking_ him? We’re just hooking up. Like, sometimes.”

“Oh, are you still pretending you don’t like him?” Futamata sighs, his face pinched into something unimpressed. “If you really don’t, then whatever. But Kuroo thinks you do, and that bitch is so goddamn observant and almost never wrong.”

“Well, this is one of the times he’s wrong.”

“Actually,” Tsucchi interrupts, walking into the kitchen peeling a banana, “this guy I was friends with in high school told me something. He said that if you didn’t know if you liked somebody, then try to imagine how you’d feel if you saw them kissing someone else. If you don’t care, then you don’t like them. But if you’d be sad or jealous or mad, then you like them.”

“Tsucchi, you tiny genius,” Futamata says.

“Shut up, I’m not tiny!”

“You know the vine where the guy tries to climb on the counter to get paper towels and opens the cabinet door on his face? You’re literally that guy. I saw you do that last week.”

“Fuck off!”

Terushima’s still turning the advice over in his head late at night, when he’s curled up in bed mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. He remembers how Kuroo had noticed his jealousy when Terushima first saw Suga and Kamasaki dancing together at the Karasuno party, and how he’d crumpled his beer can in his fist when he saw Suga making out with Oikawa. Okay, so he definitely didn’t feel _nothing_. But that doesn’t mean it _has_ to be a crush, right?

~

It’s definitely a crush.

The realization hits Terushima like a high-speed train just twenty-four hours later when he’s in the library, innocently trying to finish a calculus problem set, and he spots Suga giggling at something Futakuchi said, their heads close.

_If you’d be sad or jealous or mad, then you like them._

Terushima can’t believe he’s jealous of _Futakuchi Kenji_, of all people, but here he is. He slams his textbook shut, fluttering the pages of his notebook, and heads back to the Johzenji house, pretending he doesn’t notice Suga watching him go.

~

The next two weeks are so close to identical, it should be scary. Terushima shows up to a frat house, Suga finds him after a drink or two, they tease, and then they fuck. Terushima always wakes up to an empty bed and returns to the Johzenji house to a cheekily grinning Bobata and denies that it’s anything more than hooking up. They fuck in Akaashi’s room at the Fukurodani party and in Terushima’s own room the week after, and in between, they don’t speak of it. Occasionally they pass each other in the library or while crossing the quad, but the bulk of their interaction is the sweaty, heated nights spent in other people’s beds.

And that’s all fine. Terushima’s happy to get a regular good lay. But he finds himself thinking, sometimes when he’s distracted or in the few seconds when equations and formulas aren’t roiling around in his brain, what it might be like to wake up next to Suga one of these Sunday mornings.

The week after Johzenji’s Halloween party, the doorbell rings in the middle of the afternoon. “Tsucchi, door!” Terushima yells, not wanting to get up from where he’s got his notes spread out on the kitchen island.

“Got it!” Tsucchi yells, padding toward the front door. “Hey?”

“Is Terushima around?”

Terushima’s ears prick up at the voice floating through the house from the foyer. Shit, he knows that voice too well by now. “What the fuck is Suga doing here?” he mutters. He won’t get any more work done as long as Suga’s around; he sticks his notes back in his folder and shuts his textbook.

“Uh, yeah, he’s in the kitchen.”

Suga appears in the doorway, pink-cheeked and brows knit. “Terushima! Oh, good.”

“A booty call at four in the afternoon? I won’t complain,” Terushima says with a raised brow.

“Then don’t waste my time.” Suga yanks on his arm, all but dragging him up the stairs. He’s always been vocal during sex and liked it rough, but today is different. It feels different. There’s something a little more desperate and frenzied in the messy way Suga chokes himself on Terushima’s cock, in the way he asks—no, demands—to be fucked harder, in the way he grabs Terushima’s hand and presses it to his throat just before they both come.

When they’re both sated and exhausted, lying next to each other in the afterglow, Terushima catches Suga’s eye. Suga seems…guarded in a way Terushima has never seen him before, almost like there’s more to this rendezvous than just sex. “You know,” Terushima says, propping himself up on his side, “if something’s up, you can tell me.”

Suga stares at him for a moment before sighing and rolling over, facing away. “Daichi and I had a fight,” he says to the wall.

Terushima waits for elaboration, but the silence hangs over them like a stormcloud. “Ah,” he says in response. “So…stress relief? A distraction?”

“You could say.” Suga turns over, meeting his gaze for a fleeting second before he’s getting up and reaching for his clothes. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

For all the times Suga’s left him alone in the mornings, it’s strange to watch him leave now. It feels like a glimpse to the other side, something Terushima shouldn’t know. He shouldn’t know how Suga hops a bit to pull his jeans up his legs, or how he fusses with the one stubborn bit of hair on top of his head, or how he smooths his shirt out and checks himself in the mirror for wrinkles. Or how he takes care to close the door as silently as possible when he leaves.

Those are morning after things. This is as close to a morning after as Terushima thinks the two of them will ever get.

~

He’s got to get this sorted out before next weekend, because next weekend the party rotation will back at Karasuno, which means Terushima will definitely see Suga and he doesn’t want to imagine the fireworks that could result from sleeping with Suga in the room right next to Daichi’s. Futamata said to go for it, and really, what does he have to lose? So, on Thursday morning, he finds himself knocking on the front door of the Karasuno house, feeling a little like he’s picking someone up for a first date.

“Hello?” The door swings open, and there stands a shirtless, wet-haired Sawamura Daichi.

Terushima’s jaw goes slack. “Oh,” is all he can get out.

Daichi frowns. “Terushima?”

“Yeah?”

“Not to sound rude, but what are you doing here?” Daichi asks, sounding more confused than rude.

“You know what? I just realized I’m at the wrong house! I meant to go see, uh, Kuroo, for some…chemistry notes, and I guess I wasn’t thinking and ended up here instead! Sorry!” The pitch of Terushima’s voice keeps rising until it’s practically a squeak, and he would much rather do fifty body shots off of Futakuchi Kenji than stand here and tell his ex that he’s here to confess his feelings for said ex’s other ex. Too many exes. “Bye!”

And then, like a coward, he runs away and prays he doesn’t see Daichi at the Karasuno party.

~

Terushima’s Sunday morning hangovers tend to be pretty awful, but this one. This one is a new level of spectacular. He wakes up in one of the Karasuno bedrooms and instantly regrets opening his eyes. Burying his face back in the pillow, he tries to focus. Memories bounce around in his brain like an screensaver icon. And slowly, painfully, the night starts to come back to him in shards.

He remembers drinking more than usual while pregaming with his brothers. He remembers seeing the Karasuno banner and very loud music and even louder yelling. He’s pretty sure he remembers seeing Jiri and Noya making out against a wall somewhere. And…silvery hair. And feeling very good.

Terushima rolls over abruptly, wondering if Suga is still in bed with him—and comes face-to-face with Semi Eita.

“What?” is the unfiltered first thought that comes out of his mouth.

Semi grins lazily, stretching his arms overhead, and Terushima does have to admit the guy has a great body. “Sleep well?”

Terushima blinks, unsure if his brain is extra sluggish or if he just doesn’t want to believe the implications. “Semi?”

“That’s me.”

“Did we have sex last night?”

Semi barks out a laugh. “Hell yeah, we did,” he says with a smug little smirk. “I think we were both drunk out of our minds, though. I’m pretty sure you called me Suga at one point, but I’ll forgive you ‘cause you were pretty good otherwise.”

Terushima groans and pulls the covers up to hide his face. “Oh, fuck, did you cheat on Oikawa with me?”

“Oikawa? Nah, we’re just fucking.” Semi snorts. “Is he telling everyone we’re a thing? We’re not a thing.”

Terushima is pretty sure there’s more to that story, but he doesn’t press. “Ugh,” he mumbles, rolling over and shoving his head under the pillow. “I feel like I fucked up.”

~

“How the hell did you fuck up so bad?” Bobata demands the moment Terushima trudges back into the Johzenji house.

“Not so loud, bro,” Terushima mutters, pressing a hand to his forehead and then quickly raking his fingers through his hair to disguise the motion. “If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, how do you know?”

“Jiri told the groupchat that he saw you guys go up to Suga’s room.”

“Oh _fuck_, we did it in Suga’s room?” Terushima collapses on the couch and throws an arm over his face. “There’s no coming back from this, is there? Wait, if we slept in Suga’s room, then where did _he_ go…?” There’s always the possibility that Suga just found somebody else to hook up with, and that. That doesn’t sit well with him. Or maybe it’s just the hangover nausea.

Bobata shrugs and heads toward the kitchen. “Jiri said Noya took him up to his room not long after, so who knows. Want any French toast? Iizaka made too much.”

“How can I think about French toast at a time like this?” Terushima yells, though his grumbling stomach betrays him and he reluctantly ends up dragging his feet into the kitchen. “I fucked up! I fucked up whatever was going on between Oikawa and Semi, and I probably fucked things up with Suga too. I was gonna…I was gonna ask him out the other day.”

Bobata almost drops half a plate of French toast on the floor. “You what? When? Where?”

Terushima slides into a chair and rests his head on the table, pillowed on folded arms. “I don’t know what got into me. But I just went over to the Karasuno house a few days ago and knocked on the door and I was gonna ask for him but Daichi answered the door and he clearly just got out of the shower and I thought it would be too awkward to ask him to get Suga so I could ask him out, and…yeah. Now here we are,” he says to the table.

The plate is set in front of him with a soft thunk. “Here’s an idea.”

“You have the worst ideas.”

Bobata ignores him. “Eat this, and then go back and finish the job.”

“Finish the job?” Terushima picks his head up and hums out a laugh. “You make it sound like I’m going over there to kill him.”

Bobata laughs and pushes the plate till it hits Terushima’s forearm. “Eat this and go. You have a boy to ask out.”

An hour later, after he’s eaten and showered and started to feel more like himself, Terushima finds himself standing on Karasuno’s front porch for the third time in a week. He rings the doorbell and looks down, staring at the flowery welcome mat under his sneakers.

“Ten in the morning is a little early for a booty call, don’t you think?”

“Suga!” Terushima exclaims, mostly out of surprise that Suga had been the one to answer the door. He’s in a soft gray t-shirt that’s slipping off one shoulder and a pair of plain black sweatpants; Terushima hates that he thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen Suga wear. “Uh…”

Suga laughs and tosses something at him. “You left this in my room.” His wallet. How had Terushima not noticed that was missing? “Making excuses to come back?” Suga’s teasing him, leaning against the doorframe. He’s unfair, really. So unfair. Did Terushima ever really believe he didn’t have a crush?

“I didn’t mean to sleep with Semi,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek and looking away. “Sorry.”

“I don’t blame you. He’s hot,” Suga says evenly. “But just so you know, Oikawa might kill you.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Terushima looks up at Suga, who’s studying him quietly.

“Why did you apologize?” he asks.

“Ilike you,” Terushima blurts out, his brain-to-mouth filter abandoning him in this critical moment. “Because I like you. That’s why.” _Stupid! Idiot! Stupid idiot! All the advanced classes you’re in and you can’t use your brain!_ screams a voice that sounds suspiciously like Bobata’s yells at him. Well, he’s already in this far, might as well go all the way. “So now that that’s on the table…do you want to go out? Like on a date?”

Suga looks properly surprised for the first time since Terushima’s known him. His usual expression is wiped blank, the carefully composed smirks and neutrality traded in for genuine bemusement. “Are you asking me out?” he says.

“Um. Yeah?”

“Is that a question?”

“No. Yeah. I mean, yeah, I…I guess I’m asking you out.” Terushima rubs at the back of his neck, feeling a blush start to rise. “I get it if you don’t want to. I know if could make stuff weird. Like, with us, I guess, but mostly with Daichi. And Daichi’s more important since you have to live with him. But like, either way, I kind of wanna keep hooking up if that’s cool, but it’s—”

“Okay.”

“What?”

“I said okay.” Suga’s smile is small but sincere.

“But…Daichi?”

“It’s one date. We’re not getting married. Besides,” Suga says with a shrug, “it’s not like he’s the boss of me. So take me to the bakery that just opened up next to the library. Tomorrow at five?”

And then the door is shut in his face before Terushima can fully process it. Suga said yes. Suga said he’ll go on a date. Suga wants to meet tomorrow.

Terushima jumps into the air and lets out a whoop.

“Hey!” Jiri’s voice floats down from a second-floor window. “Some of us are trying to sleep!”

“Jiri, is that you?” Terushima calls.

There’s a pregnant pause. Then: “Don’t tell Tsucchi I slept over or I’ll owe him twenty bucks.”

**Author's Note:**

> pls join me in terusuga hell 
> 
> [tumblr](http://karasunonolibero.tumblr.com)


End file.
